Totem
by Muffy90
Summary: This is all a bad dream. It has to be. Connor Kenway is in a world where everything is upside down: friends are foes, enemies are allies... and apparently the most important person in his life doesn't remember him. Is this really a dream? Or an awful reality? - Warning: contains ACIII spoilers and Connor/OC; oh, and inexperienced writer -
1. Prologue

_-Present Day-_

Who ever thought this would be possible? To be able to access to one's memories so easily?

Years of research in the Abstergo science and engineering labs came down to a simple airport modem and a fully functional "cloud" network. The D.N.A researcher still couldn't believe how such a light and small electronic device, no bigger than an external hard-drive, could grant access to the terabytes of genetic data they gathered from their subjects so far. All it needed was to be hooked up to a power socket, and of course, a virtual reality desktop computer. Aside from a few system hiccups and bugs, the program and network were fully functional. And the young female scientist couldn't wait to get started. Of course, only after she was finally done going through the pile of files and reports.

That was one of the drawbacks of working in the "Abstergo Data and Network Analysis Department", which was just another cover up for their genetic research division. She was given a simple task by her supervisor: watch and analyze the memories from one of their subjects, and look for a specific event. That also meant the scientist had to read and be familiar with every little detail in the subject's file. She read page after page of information on her computer: historical data, dialogue decryption, security reports, not that she needed to read much of the latter in the first place. The latest test subject had been the topic of Abertergo's social network for months now. She even remembered the night Warren Vidic's death was posted on the company's page. That post got more "likes" than the kitten pictures some airhead uploaded every day.

After what seemed hours, the female scientist smiled when she reached the final pages of the "memories and ancestry" section. Thanks to the Animus data acquired by the subject's Assassin allies, they were spared a lot of time on looking for that information themselves. The female scientist read the biographies and information of the ancestors they gathered so far. The subject's ancestors seemed to come from everywhere: Syria, Mongolia, Rome, Italy, England... The most recent found ancestor was even a Native American. Talk about a cocktail of origins. Either way, this latest individual's biography was incomplete. Much to the female scientist's disappointment, there is no indication on this ancestor's life after his involvement in the American Revolution. Odd... She remembered seeing a woman with the ancestor in a few of the DNA memory screenshots, dating a few months after the English left American territory. The scientist leaned back in her chair and whipped her eyes. Hours of scanning long pdf files of text and images was getting to her. But at last, she was done with her homework. Now, onto the fun part. Closing the data files, she opened her desktop and clicked on a cloud logo with the Abstergo symbol in it- good thing it was only a temporary one; it looked ridiculous. She entered her ID number, her passwords and her clearance codes and opened her desired file. More than 4 hours of video were in there. She sighed. This was clearly going to take a while. She quickly got up and walked to the expresso machine outside of her office. She might as well have some coffee to go with it.

_Now playing Subject 17 memories..._


	2. Chapter 1: Ashes

_-1785-_

No person alive could believe what they saw. Black smoke rose to the sky, feeding the glutton dark clouds that lingered above the old Lexington. The once peaceful colonial town, full of life and rich crops, was now burning and being torn to pieces. Its residents tried to flee, leaving their homes and belongings behind, but none of the escapees left unhurt. Men limped from the shots they received from muskets, women whimpered from the burns that marked their bodies, and children cried due to the beatings they received. Yet most of all, they cried from loss. The place they once called "home" was now hell on earth. Their homes were being burnt to the ground, their friends, neighbors and family members, those who couldn't escape, were being shot, stabbed, trapped, burnt alive, all by the same men that they once trusted. The soldiers who, a few years ago, saved them from the grip of the British and assured their independence. Unfortunately, it was all a lie, a ruse, so they could be subjugated by an even crueler and colder tyrant. The self proclaimed King of the New World, George Washington. The former general and hero condemned the entire town and ordered his men to burn it all down. Until only ashes would remain.

Connor never thought he'd ever witness such a terrible ordeal again. Lexington was the stage of a bloody battle, much more violent than anything he could remember. That is, if whatever memories he had were true to begin with. It all seemed so insane, so wrong. His mother alive, the country enslaved by a Mad King... His training never existed. It was as if he'd never left the village. Was it a dream? All of it?

"Ratonhnhaké:ton! Over there!"

Snapping out of his thoughts, the young native american man looked ahead to where his mother led them. In the midst of the brutal chaos, a large squadron of blue-coats gathered all the residents they could find, forced them inside large houses spared by the fire near the town's church and barricaded all the doors and windows with wood-planks and large barrels containing gunpowder. Connor's eyes quickly caught another bluecoat, a scout, running towards one of the houses, a torch in his hand. The murderers. They planed on having the buildings blow up and kill all that were inside. Even women and children. The thought of such barbarism had Connor's blood boil. He took hold of his bow, took out an arrow, pulled it back with ease and aimed at the scout. The soldier was still far away from any of the houses before the arrow's sharp tip dug into his neck. The now dead man's comrades' faces paled at his sudden death. Some of them turned around and saw Connor stand a few feet away, releasing go of another arrow that soon hit a second scout that was running towards the houses. Out of panic, the soldiers readied their muskets and aimed at the Native American man, determined to put him down. However, they didn't see another foe run up to them until she dug her dagger in one of the man's back. He let out a startled, gargled cry before tumbling down, alongside another who didn't even have the time to defend himself. Taking opportunity of the soldier's surprise, Kaniehtí:io looked up at her son and yelled out at him.

"Go free the people from the houses! I'll hold them off!"

Connor put his bow away again and ran towards the closest barricaded house. His tomahawk in hand, he hacked off the boards blocking the doors, pulled them off and let the people out from the first house. He ran straight to the other one and repeated the process, a couple of the men he freed helping him. Some took the boards and the barrels away while others picked up muskets from dead soldiers and shot back at those who were heading their way. Connor did his best to stay focused on the current task, ignoring the shouts around him of men desperately crying out to their trapped loved ones, assuring them they'd get them out. However, a more high pitched, slightly softer voice stood out from them all. The Native American man turned his head to his side and his dark eyes widened. Amidst those men was a familiar face, one he never thought seeing in this nightmare. It was a petite woman, with tan skin, braided long dark hair and worn out farming clothes. And if anyone looked beyond her dark eyes, her freckles and her apparent colonial clothing, they'd notice a few Native American traits on her. The shape of her cheeks and eyes, the colored stitching on her clothes, the small feathers in her hair. She was a half-blood, just like him, and someone he knew very well. The young woman's pleas for help pulled him out of his reverie and he paced to her side, helping her clear the barricaded door before smashing it open. Distressed civilians left the building and ran as far away from the chaos as they could, except for two. A tall, muscular blond middle-aged man with freckles covering his round cheeks, and a wise looking Native American woman with dark eyes, roughly the same age, held the young woman close. Once the family calmed down, Connor addressed them, his mind confused at their presence here. Mainly the young woman's. She seemed unharmed, and unchanged by this dream's events. The Assassin stepped closer to her and adressed her, his voice giving away the reassurance of her presence in this nightmare.

"Hyalei? Is that really you?"

Her confused look and the words that came out of her mouth brought him to a halt.

"How do you know my name, sir?"

Connor felt his heart crack as he stared at the three confused individuals standing in front of him. For a moment he thought that they must've been mistaken. That his Native clothing led them to confusion with his identity. Yet, from the look on their eyes, on the female biracial's dark brown ones especially, they were serious. This world wasn't the same as the one he remembered. Everything was different. Many things most likely didn't happen. Including meeting the people important in his life.  
The sound of gunshots in the distance snapped him out of his revery. Putting his emotions aside, he addressed the family more firmly. "More soldiers will be coming soon. It is best if you go now."

The blond man looked back at him, his thick Irish accent highlighting his anger. "Let me help lad'. You will need all the help you need to handle all those bastards."

"I thank you for your offer, but it is too risky-"

"I know about risk too! I risked my life earlier to save my wife and daughter from the King's man! They thought they were the thief that crossed with the fake King!"

"You should all leave," said a third voice.

Kaniehtí:io had walked up to them, her stone dagger red with blood, as well as her arms and her clothes. Despite her appearent fatigue, she didn't waste a breath before speaking up to the Irish man.

"The soldiers retreated for now, but there is no telling for how long. You should take your family and flee into the forest."

"She is right father."

The young Assassin turned his gaze to the younger woman. Her expression and body language showed how determined she was.

"You and mother go back home and get as many of our things as you can. I'll go see if any of our horses survived."

"Hyalei, you shouldn't."

Hyalei shook her head at her mother. "I need to be sure mother."

"I will go with her."

Kaniehtí:io looked at her son and frowned lightly at him, "Ratonhnhaké:ton, we must leave to the village. We need to make sure everyone is safe."

"We would get there faster with horses, mother." The assassin looked at the Irish man. "We would be grateful if you let us take two."

"Of course. We are very grateful. Please, help my daughter and in return, you can take our best horses."

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded at the two adults and turned to the young woman. He noticed how she kept her distance, most likely still wary of the man's brutish appearance. It wasn't the first time she was be afraid of him. Hyalei quickly told her parents to meet her at the outskirts of town, right next to the old abandonned farm, before gesturing the two Native Americans to follow her.

Getting to the damaged stables didn't take long. The young girl was quite adept in hiding and avoiding the remaining soldiers properly. The few men who spotted them were swiftly taken down by either Ratonhnhaké:ton or Kaniehtí:io. The young girl didn't even flinch whenever she'd witness one of them hacking the life out of soldiers with ease. She was already too used to such violence by now.

"It's there."

Hyalei pointed at some damaged stables near a burnt farm. The building itself, as well as the houses that surrounded it, were in better shape than the ones closer to the center of the colonial town, spared from the King's army. The young girl ran ahead of the two warriors and halted at the stables' entrance. The doors were already opened, its inner edges bearing large cracks, marks that it was forcibly opened. Yet much to the group's relief, only a few of the horses were missing. Ratonhnhaké:ton and his mother followed her inside and helped her to quickly saddle up the remaining four horses.

"People most likely came here to find a fast horse to escape from the violence."

"If that is the case, than our horses are in good hands." Hyalei turned back at Kaniehtí:io and stopped her from getting on the largest of them. "Wait. That one is old. Take these two. They aren't scared easily and they are the fastest of the four."

Kaniehtí:io nodded and took one of the horses' reins. He and Ratonhnhaké:ton mounted the tall steeds and had them walk out of the stables, followed by Hyalei who was already mounting the oldest one. Kaniehtí:io thanked her for her, and prompted her horse to trot away. Ratonhnhaké:ton stayed behind for a moment, his hands clenching the reins tight. He wanted, needed to make sure she'd be safe. He didn't want to lose her in this nightmare of a world. Yet he couldn't just abandon his mother, his village, nor his people. He couldn't let tragedy and death befall them again. The male warrior looked from under his wolf cloak's hood at Hyalei, but before he could even utter a word, the young woman surprised him with her own.

"It's alright, I can manage from here. You must go now. Your people are counting on you."

The Native American man was speechless. No matter how much it pained him to admit it, Hyalei was right. His mother and his people depended on him. He couldn't abandon them against such imminent threat. Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded at the young woman and spurred his horse to full gallop, praying for her to return safe to her family and survive this ordeal. He joined his mother's side up a hill, right outside of what was left of Lexington. The town was a wreck, a mere shadow of its former self. A few people remained, gathering their priceless possessions and helping their loved ones escape. What was left were dead bodies scattered around town, both soldiers and former inhabitants. Once tall buildings, ranging from houses to churches and public halls, were burnt to the ground. Only ashes remained. Ratonhnhaké:ton only hoped that such tragic fate wouldn't befall on the entire contry.


End file.
